The other night, about 25 co-workers and family members crowded into Tessa Moore’s Palo Alto living room and showered Carlene with baubles, bangles, beads and an armoire for storing them. Amid the sangria and laughter, the tragedy seemed far away. Yet Carlene couldn’t hide her emotions as she opened each gift.

“This is really getting to me,” she said, admiring yet another sparkly bracelet. “It’s just beautiful what you all have done for me.”

What would you miss the most if you lost everything? I suppose most people would say family photographs and videos, but we all have something that makes us unique, something we need to make our lives complete. The San Bruno fire, which killed eight people and destroyed 35 houses, left dozens of families with nothing but the clothes they were wearing when they fled the towering flames.

As those families rebuild their lives, as they make lists for the insurance adjusters, they appreciate the small things that help define their lives.

For Carlene Vasquez, that’s her jewelry. For her husband, Arturo, it’s his music.

Empty lots

The strangers have left the Crestmoor neighborhood now. Gone are the bulldozers, the tourists, the TV cameras. The rows of chimneys that hauntingly stood watch after the homes were destroyed are gone, too. The empty lots have been sprayed with a light green erosion retardant that makes the hillside look like a deserted, undulating golf course.

The neighborhood is quiet, except for tapping hammers and whirring power saws on the fringe of the disaster area, where repairs have begun on damaged homes.

Carlene and Arturo Vasquez lived in their house on Glenview Drive for 32 years. Their three children grew up there. Now it sits boarded up and padlocked, awaiting a demolition crew. What little they could salvage after the fire — wedding china, a Dumbo cookie jar, some rusted power tools and CDs — is packed away until they rebuild, which they are determined to do.

“I want to go home; that’s the gist of it,” Arturo, 62, says as we stand on his ash-covered front porch. “We don’t have home right now.”

Smoke, mold and ash

No one would recognize the once-cozy living room that used to be filled with leather chairs and family photos. A tarp covering the charred roof bathes the place in an eerie blue light. The smell of smoke and mold hangs in the air. We climb over damp piles of blackened carpet, insulation, charred wood and empty picture frames. With each step, water oozes under foot.

In the kitchen, the remains of a Polish sausage sit in a frying pan filled with water and grease. Arturo was cooking himself a snack and watching the football game on TV the night a 30-inch PG&E gas pipe ruptured and sent flames shooting up the street, rocking their house. He thought it was an earthquake until he saw the towering flames reflected in the windows of the neighbor’s van parked outside. Sock-footed, he ran up the street with his next-door neighbor, who was carrying twin daughters in his arms.

Carlene, 59, was at the senior center playing bingo. Her daughter, Bonnie Edwards, tracked her down there, then drove around looking for Arturo, eventually finding him at the Bayhill Shopping Center, a full mile and a half from home.

Once reunited, the family didn’t want to let go. So everyone — Carlene and Arturo, their three kids, spouses and three grandkids — stayed the night in their son’s one-bedroom condo in San Mateo. “The adults were packed together on the floor like dominoes,” Carlene said. “We talked all night; it was the most beautiful thing.”

After the relief of surviving came the reality of life after the fire. Slowly they have begun replacing the essentials: clothes, shoes, underwear, nail clippers.

Arturo’s brand new Nissan Maxima was in his garage, so he’s driving a rental car, and each day even that is a reminder that something is not quite right. “Every time I get in this car I hit my head,” he says. “It doesn’t fit me like the other one did.”

Carlene likes the furnished house they are renting in South San Francisco. “It’s cheery and full of light.” Still, some mornings, on the way to work, she drives to the old neighborhood, parks in front of her house and cries.

The work begins

Rebuilding the house has become Arturo’s full-time job. He retired three years ago after 35 years as an electric meter technician and substation operator for PG&E. Yes, a bit of irony.

“I wasn’t in the gas division,” he says, not wanting to speculate about his old employer’s liability in the explosion. “I’m just standing by, letting the investigation take its course.”

These days his life is filled with meetings and phone calls. He had to give in and get a cell phone.

“I’m exhausted all the time,” he says. “My nature is to not relax until stuff is done, but it’s never done.”

He’s still negotiating with his insurance company on the settlement amount, and expects the demolition to begin in a couple of weeks. I ask him if he will watch the demolition. He thinks for a minute.

“I don’t know,” he says. “What would you do?”

Arturo tries to stay positive. He talks about the little miracles, the precious possessions that were saved, like the ring his mother gave him in high school. He may laugh about Carlene’s jewelry jones, but he chokes up when he shows me the engraved gold initial ring, which somehow survived.

“I kept it on my dresser in this silly little baseball trophy from eighth grade,” he says. “And when I went in after the fire, there it was. That dresser was only thing in the room that was untouched.”

The possessions he misses most are his records, CDs and stereo equipment. “From Peter, Paul and Mary to Placido Domingo, I just love music,” he says.

After the fire, his kids gave him a gift certificate to Amoeba Music in San Francisco, so he went on a shopping spree.

“I put an acoustic CD by Los Lonely Boys on the crummy boom box I bought,” he says, “and suddenly I felt this incredible burst of joy that I don’t think I had felt since the fire. For a moment, I felt home, you know? Hopefully, I’m going to have that again someday.”

WASHINGTON – Hillary Clinton challenged Congress on Thursday to combat fake and misleading news on social media, using a post-election appearance to tackle an issue that gripped her presidential campaign and culminated with a shooting incident Sunday in Northwest Washington.